Everything Counts
by C.J.0608
Summary: Every little thing counts. The hope in Jack's eyes would end in disappointment when she sees he can't be the old Alex anymore. When his scars still show, she'll always still be looking for how to make it disappear. Despite these thoughts, he didn't think he really deserved to say no to Jack. Forgetting the past and controlling the future are abilities Alex cannot have. Rewrite
1. Denial

Chapter 1: Denial

AN: Hello. I used to have this story up before, but I decided to take it back to edit it and make a slightly better version. I hope none of you mind.

Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider

* * *

"Alex Rider, welcome back." Mr. Hyde greeted in surprise. He gave the boy a quick concerned glance, but went on with the rest of attendance as soon as he did so.

He was one of the younger teachers; a blond haired Austrian that still looked to be fresh out of college. He was one of the few teachers who didn't take offense to Alex's absences. He couldn't help but feel worried for Alex rather than be frustrated.

The unusual teenager didn't seem as fragile as his excuses suggested, and he seemed more on guard every time he returned and definitely more worn.

The teacher knew the excuses were valid, but he felt an odd sensation that something was missing.

Today, Alex seemed more deflated and, frankly, sad. He remembered losing a family member before, but he never remembered it affecting him in the same manner. To be sick so many times was odd to say the least, but for him to come back with a slight tan and a presence of 'I saw the world and barely came back with my soul' was grounds for suspicion. Although it was too quick for him to assume that it was the boy's uncle that had affected him this way.

It was the strange coincidence of it all that caused this teacher to begin questioning what Alex has really been up to.

Mr. Hyde began his lecture about the Cambridge Five.

At times when he looked up from his notes, he couldn't help but notice the way Alex looked ready to leave any moment.

His student sat hunched over on the very edge of the chair and his expression occasionally displayed apprehension. It was like he was waiting to run for it if something bad happened. But nothing bad could happen.

At least not in his classroom.

The teacher was then so immersed into his own lecture that he didn't even notice the fair-haired teen until the bell. He wasn't a history teacher for nothing; he enjoyed his lectures and was very focused in the details he gave his students.

"Rider!" he called before the boy could leave.

Alex turned a little stiffly to look at him. The man was taken back by the hardness in his eyes, which he found to be a bit intimidating.

"Mr. Hyde?"

"Are you doing okay?" he asked while he went back to stacking his scattered papers and folders on his desk.

"Yeah, of course," he smiled tightly, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Mr. Hyde only nodded in understanding as he situated his things in his russet leather bag.

"You didn't seem too happy to be in my class today, you seemed bothered," he explained without looking up, "But forgive me if I'm mistaken."

The boy's expression was slightly perplexed as he answered curtly, "I'm fine." And then added, "I'm not sick anymore."

Alex seemed to be defending himself by the uneasiness in his voice.

"Uh, sorry, Mr. Hyde, I'm going to be late," he excused himself apologetically into the still congested hallways.

Mr. Hyde was a little stunned by his answer.

What was he hiding?

* * *

Alex didn't go to his next class. Instead he found himself heading towards the bathroom.

He went to the sink and looked down at the drain as he thought to himself.

Mr. Hyde wasn't the first person that day or that week to call him out as 'unhappy'.

Jack had questioned him about his feelings, but he rejected the topic immediately. And Tom had commented on his apparently sad and lost expression. It wasn't like he was avoiding anything. No. He just…he just thought it to be pointless to wonder whether he looked 'happy' or not. Because he was happy...,or fine to say the very least.

Sure, MI6 had used him one too many times, sure, his Uncle, godfather, and many others had died just in the last few months, and sure, he had been injured countless times. Alex grimaced.

But he was okay now, his injuries have healed, the world was saved, and it wasn't like he had any control over the events in his life anyhow. No one did. So it just felt too absurd for Alex to think that he was unhappy just because he'd been put through some pain.

Why can't people just be happy for being alive? Besides, he felt it was selfish to think such things when there was so much worse in the world.

So why?

Why, while he was trying to be happy or at least normal, was everyone around him telling him otherwise?

Alex had kept his head staring down into the drain while he contemplated all of this; his hands clasped at the edges of the porcelain sink.

And he found that he couldn't bring himself to look into the mirror.

Alex began to feel an anger emerging in the pit of his stomach. He had the urge to destroy something; anything; someone.

He hated the fact that he could still hear students in the hallways. He hated how noisy and crowded this school was.

He stepped away from the sink and turned around and kicked a stall door out of impulse. Then he paced the restroom with the same aggressive demeanor, occasionally kicking one of the innocent blue stalls as he passed by.

The boy was glad that no one else was there to see him lose himself, as he had locked the bathroom door.

After seething he paused and looked up at one of the mirrors.

The face he saw was contorted in unrecognizable lines.

His face began to soften; he saw the brown eyes fall and the lines disappear.

The face.

The face was sad.

Hurt.

'No.'

'I don't even know what I feel,' Alex thought desperately.

'What about Ash? Your parents?

How do you feel that everyone in your life sacrificed your happiness?

Those who left you to hell?

Or was it not hellish enough for you?

Blunt? Jones? ' a voice provoked,

Ian?

He left you to this, didn't he?'

An unnaturally vulnerable sensation soon drowned him. The words waved over his mind, giving him a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The usually resilient spy felt weak and unable to argue. As though the voice took hold of the weakest part of him and crushed him into submission.

"I have Jack, I have Tom," Alex spoke frantically, "even James."

The provoking voice said nothing, though Alex still felt it was quietly mocking him.

Alex felt horrible.

He felt trapped.

And worst of all, he didn't think there was a solution.

'I'm miserable.'

And though the thought now existed, he crammed it in the far corner of his mind to be forgotten...

* * *

AN: Thank you, and please REVIEW!


	2. Intervention

Chapter 2: Intervention

Disclaimer: I still don't own Alex Rider

"I'm home!" called Alex as he unceremoniously let his school bag drop onto the wooden floor. He slipped off his converse and kicked them to the side.

"I'm in the kitchen!" he heard her response slightly muffled through the thin wall. He thought he could hear a man's voice too. It put him on edge.

When he entered the kitchen, his senses proved him right as he saw a man sat across from Jack. Both of them sitting in the wooden chairs around the polished square table, and an empty mug in front of the guest.

Jack held a taut expression, while the man seemed very at ease.

The strange man was very tall, very lean, and looked to be in his mid-thirties. His features weren't ugly, but they weren't handsome either.

He didn't seem normal to Alex. His blond hair was too tidy and closely cropped, and his eyes, however polite, seemed too sharp.

Alex felt as though the man was seeing right through him, and so felt vulnerable. He had never seen such hawk-like eyes.

"This is Sheppard Dawson, Alex," Jack introduced cautiously.

"Hello, Alex," Sheppard greeted with a flashy grin. His accent was noticeably German.

Alex observed that the smile he gave didn't quite match the look in his eyes. There was something off, and Alex didn't trust him one bit.

"Hello," Alex said briefly without a hint of emotion. Jack looked a little nervous now.

"Uh, Alex," she began, "Mr. Dawson-

"Call me Sheppard."

"Sheppard is a doctor I met…weeks ago, and since then we've had quite a few good chats."

"Well that's great then," Alex replied dryly, "I have homework, so I'm going to my room now." He just wanted to leave and be out the man's presence. Though he wished the man himself would just leave their home instead.

"What she means to say, Alex," Sheppard interrupted lightly, "Some of those chats were about you. And I happen to be a psychologist."

Jack looked a bit shocked at the man's bluntness.

'Getting closer to point now, are we?' Alex couldn't stop from thinking, annoyed.

"There couldn't have been much to say about me," the teen said tersely, and was about to continue out of the kitchen until Jack's voice stopped him. One of the few voices that could stop him.

"Alex, please listen," she asked sadly, "I'm worried about you. It's not normal not to have feelings to deal with after what you'd been through."

"What would you know about what I'd been through?" Alex retorted coldly and he immediately regretted it after seeing Jack's eyes become glossy.

"I'm sorry, Jack, I didn't mean it."

She tried to smile, "It's fine, Alex," and then seemed as if she was going to say more just as the man across from her took his turn to speak.

"Alex, how about I make you a deal," he began, trying to veer the conversation, "Try me out for at least a week or two, and if you hate it, you don't have to see me again." Before Alex could respond he added, "You can do it for Jack."

Alex could see Jack fidgeting in the corner of his eye as he looked intently at Mr. Dawson.

Alex hesitated warily as he thought about what was being said. He then turned to his red-haired guardian.

"Jack, I can't talk about-"

"Already taken care of, Alex," she explained, "I talked with Blunt, and he said they had done a thorough background check on Mr. Dawson. Made him sign papers and everything."

"And he has security clearance?"

"Yes."

"I even have experience working with the FBI- during my time in America," the German spoke,with an assuring smile. He seemed oddly entertained by this intervention of sorts. His whole demeanor was relaxed and he gave no notice to my irritation. It gave an eerie resemblance to a watchful predator, looking to play with his food.

Well if MI6 thought he was ok, then Alex thought maybe he was just too paranoid.

If this was for Jack, he would do it, but only just to make her happy.

To end all her worry.

She deserved that much.

Although, he was hurt that Jack had went behind his back, and he wasn't so happy that everyone was claiming that he needed to be fixed.

The pit of his stomach began to spark with rage that was, again, quickly dampened by a sudden fatigue.

He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't felt so excluded from reality. Jack's reality. His schoolmates' reality. And he wanted to believe it was the people around him that were continuing to make him feel that way.

Alex decided his case was a lost cause though. With all the death and torture in the world, did it really matter how he ends up anyhow?

_Let people reject what's left of me_. _Let Jack reject me._

Somehow that punishment seemed better than pretending he wasn't damaged anymore, just to feel artificially loved.

How do you tell someone you've died? And that the person they are talking to is a stranger?

Nobody could ever erase what has happened to Alex. But they could reject him.

He couldn't even fathom those who could truly love him for what he is. And by the hints of Jack and his peers- this deformed version of himself created by what has all happened, seems unacceptable.

The hope in Jack's eyes would end in disappointment when she sees he can't be the old Alex anymore. When his scars still show, she'll always still be looking for how to make it disappear.

Despite these thoughts, he didn't think he really deserved to say no to Jack.

But he wasn't about to relive anything, and especially not to a man he didn't trust. Dr. Sheppard should expect very quiet sessions ahead of him. And Alex didn't expect them to last in the long run anyhow.

**AN:** Thank you my one reviewer! And thanks to all my other supporters. Incase you were an old follower of this story and are a bit confused about future changes, I've changed the plot a lot. So expect a lot more surprises later on. I promise I didn't get rid of any characters...so far. I have a good place for all of them. Thanks again!


	3. Walls Are Closing In

Chapter 3: The Walls are Closing In

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.

* * *

"Alex, please talk to me," Jack said as both of her hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. The tension was beyond present in the small car and Jack couldn't take it for much longer. Alex had barely spoken a word since the…intervention.

'Did I do the right thing?' She was beginning to doubt herself. This whole situation was completely out of her depth, though she didn't believe many people would be able to handle a situation so unique.

"What should I talk about, Jack?" he uttered with his focus firmly out the passenger window, staring at all the passing buildings light up as the day was closing in. He silently hoped they wouldn't go past the bank.

"I feel like you're mad at me."

'Why would I be mad at you?' Alex thought sardonically.

"I'm not, Jack," he stressed, "I'm just tired lately, that's all."

'Tired of everyone not leaving me the hell alone.' He had no idea where that thought came from, but he felt good thinking it.

Jack wasn't satisfied with the answer, but let it go.

"Sheppard is really easy to get along with," she said suddenly, "you can pretend you are just talking to me, if it makes this any easier."

Jack was trying to comfort him, but Alex showed no change in his hard expression when she tilted her head to look at him.

"I go to school for the first time after my birthday, and I think of how my life can just go back to being normal," the teen confessed unexpectedly, "And shortly after, I'm being treated as though I'm not able to be normal. That I'm not normal."

A tint of anger was sowed into his words though he tried to stay calm. He now wanted Jack to realize that maybe this was not a good idea and take him back home. It didn't work.

"Alex," she sighed despondently as she turned the car onto another street, "Going to therapy does not make you abnormal. Lots of people go to therapy. I even went to therapy at one time. No one's thinking of anything but your well-being, Alex. I promise."

Alex looked surprised, "Why'd you go?"

"Sometimes it's nice to have someone to talk to about anything," she said simply.

"When did you go?" he asked, swallowing down the anxiety pushing painfully in his chest.

"Just a month or so ago I stopped going, actually," she said thoughtfully, "I decided I didn't need it anymore." A stretched silence consumed them both.

"It was because of me, wasn't it?" he uttered heavily. His voice broke a little. Jack swiftly turned her head to Alex, sparing her attention from the heavy traffic in front of them.

"Oh, God, no, Alex!" she spouted quickly, "I went because of some family issues, Alex, it had nothing to do with you." Her face was flustered. She was hurt that he would feel responsible for her own mental health. She gave a small smile after she saw Alex's eyes fill with relief that it wasn't about him. She ruffled his hair softly, "I would never do that, Alex," she soothed.

Alex only nodded, even though he wasn't sure 'what' exactly Jack would never do, and went back to staring out the window.

The next minute though, they were already in front of an expensive and modern apartment building. Alex had never seen it in his life; he assumed it was a fairly new building, probably only a few years old at most.

They parked a little further down the road from it. He was sure that this would be the place where Sheppard lived and his assumption was proven correct the closer they got to the building. The urge to run away was growing stronger and each step forward grew strained. All Alex could think of were those hawk-like eyes, and they scared him.

They made it to the fourth floor, and Alex followed his red-haired guardian down the burgundy carpet floor of the wide, lighted hall until they reached a mahogany door with a gold plated number: 413.

Jack knocked, and it felt like an eternity for Alex before the door was finally opened.

"Ah, so glad you made it," he smiled, exposing his perfectly white teeth, "Come in, come in, please!" He reminded Alex of a wolf.

He slowly walked in after Jack into what looked to be the parlor. It seemed like a room on display rather than a place that someone lived in. There was not a speck of dirt from what Alex could see, and everything was set symmetrically and orderly, and unnaturally so.

"I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave us soon," the blond man warned Jack with a good-humored smile, "Our session will last about an hour, though it will decide how frequent his next sessions will be."

"Alright," Jack replied with her eyes still on Alex. "I'll just leave now then. I'll see you soon, Alex, alright?" Jack seemed a bit bothered about leaving her ward.

"Yeah, bye, Jack," the young blond said stiffly although he wanted desperately to say the opposite.

'You're doing this for Jack, remember? Don't be selfish.'

Alex didn't even notice Jack leave until the click of the door. The sound of imprisonment.

"Hello, Alex," the lean man said, trying to get the boy's attention, "will you please have a seat over here?" he asked, pointing to a tan leather couch facing a big black chair.

He spoke as though he was speaking to a small child, and his voice was smooth, too smooth.

No wonder Jack trusted him so quickly.

Although, he had no reason not to trust the man…not yet anyway.

Alex sat on the couch, sinking into the leather without a word.

"So, Alex, how are you today?" he asked genuinely as he sat into the chair, appearing to be very relaxed.

"Fine, I suppose," Alex answered curtly. His eyes stayed glued to his hands placed on his knees.

He could feel Sheppard's eyes on him, and he didn't want to see them at all costs.

Alex was a bit surprised as the next few minutes consisted of silence.

He felt as though the man was analyzing him thoughtfully. Too thoughtfully. Eventually the silence was cut through briskly.

"Would you like something to drink, Alex?" he asked.

"A coke is fine."

'Might as well drink something while I'm here,' Alex thought. Before he knew it, the doctor came back, placing the can of soda on the polished coffee table in front of him. Alex drank a quarter of it before setting it down again.

He looked up to see that the man before him was lazily holding a thick file in his hand, the papers inside looking ready to slide out.

His expression was amused as I looked questioningly at the what was in his grip.

"Do you know what this is?" the man began playfully, looking towards the file and then at Alex.

"A file," Alex returned curtly.

The man looked down and nodded, "I thought maybe you could take a better guess," he shrugged. He peaked back up at the boy across from him. "Well, keep guessing."

The man was replied with a strange look.

"Why?" the young spy uttered.

"Keep guessing!" The man yelled, exasperated. His immature manner was difficult for Alex to adjust to.

"It's a file with paper in it!" Alex retaliated.

Seeing that Alex wasn't going to play anymore, he continued.

"I was hoping for something more specific, but I suppose I should just tell you." He appeared to be a little bit disappointed.

Despite Dawson's playful antics and relaxed behavior, Alex had a sense that the file wasn't anything good.

"It's a new mission, Alex." He placed the file on the shiny table and slid it towards him leisurely.

"What?"

8888888888888888888888888888 8888888888888888888888888888 8888888888888888888888888888 8888888888888888888888888888 

* * *

"Tulip," Blunt acknowledged formally as she sat across from him in his rather boring office. "I had heard you have thoughts to express on the matter of Dawson?"

She looked thoughtfully while sucking on a peppermint tautly.

She carefully declared, "In all honesty, I do not believe it was safe to allow Alex to be alone with this man at all."

"Why is that?" he asked as though he already knew where this was going. He leaned forward in his leather chair as though eager to listen.

"I believe you already know," she answered bluntly.

His mouth twitched into what she assumed was a smile.

"I admit, he has some controversial events in his past."

She added, "I'm surprised you made such a hasty decision. I assumed you would be cautious with government secrets to a man who is not even a British citizen. Either way, I would appreciate more of an explanation."

"You haven't seen the whole file yet?"

"Just barely. I've only had time for a glance."

He nodded.

"It is true that I was, at first, a little too eager on allowing Sheppard Dawson to be the one to do this," the dreary man began, "But he has unbelievable knowledge of the underworld." She nodded stiffly as Blunt continued.

"He's worked as a psychologist with the FBI for six years and worked as a German intelligence agent for four years," he explained, "His experience with organized crime is invaluable to the mission, but it is his psychology experience that will allow us to have Alex on this mission." He stared into Mrs. Jones questioning gaze, as though trying to communicate something specific. "They are both crucial assets."

"Alex will no longer cooperate with us. With the way his last mission went, I doubt he has any will left to keep Jack here any longer," she spoke plainly.

"But he will cooperate if he doesn't want to end up in an asylum…" Blunt finished for her.

Mrs. Jones eyes held uncertainty at his words.

They were haunting. His threat.

She remembered the way he'd shown his concern for Alex, when they spoke with the Prime Minister about Alex's report on McCain. The words were still etched in her mind: 'I want to know he's safe.' He cared. She wanted to believe he did. So, she tried her best to cram away any thoughts that Blunt had completely done something unforgivable to Alex.


End file.
